Last Pale Light in the West
by TWDMama
Summary: "What makes you think we're taking in strangers?" His voice was cold and it made her wonder if coming here had been a good idea or not. "Nothing. I hoped. I took a chance, a risk. If I can't stay here, I'll die elsewhere. No one survives alone anymore. No one." She spoke softly and it did come from her heart. It was the truth. (Funny, ORIGINAL, romantic!)


**I own nothing, but any original characters. Begins during season 3.**

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The prison. She found this place, or maybe this place found her. She had to make this place her home, there had to be decent people here. The yard had been cleared, but the gate had been rammed, and she could see a woman and a young boy standing guard in one of the yards.

She breathed a loud sigh and made a run for the gates. There were walkers surrounding the place, a few here and there. She yelled a quick "HEY!" and was able to capture the attention of the woman. After a bit of arguing between the woman and the boy, the gate was opened. Just in time, too, considering she had made herself very apparent to the flesh eating dead within a 50 yard radius.

The gate slammed shut behind her so she leaned over and braced her hands on her knees, out of breath. "Thanks..." She spoke without looking up. "Presley..." The woman spoke before they could ask. Out of nowhere, she felt a firm grip shove her against the fence. She was being frisked and wasn't quite sure what to say or think about it. "Who are you and why are you here? Did the governor send you?" He flipped her around in one moment, while he ripped the knife from her hip. "Who is the governor and why would he send me? I told you...I'm Presley and I'm here so I don't get eaten alive by the freaks that have taken over the world.." Her last sentence was a bit of sarcasm, but the man wasn't amused. He took a step back, as they examined each other. He was in his mid-30's, needed a shave, and wore a pistol on his hip.

"What makes you think we're taking in strangers?" His voice was cold and it made her wonder if coming here had been a good idea or not.

"Nothing. I hoped. I took a chance, a risk. If I can't stay here, I'll die elsewhere. No one survives alone anymore. No one." She spoke softly and it did come from her heart. It was the truth. She was a 24 year old homicide detective. She lucked into that job because of her father and was damn good at it, had a pit bull and a poodle as best friends, and was somehow lucky enough to join up with a group that made it this long, on the run. And she was lucky enough to be the last one standing, or so she thought. What other choice did she have, but to come here?

She could tell the man was thinking when the young boy spoke up, "Dad...She's not here to kill us. If anything, she could help us. We need all the manpower we can find." The man looked over at his son, patted him on the shoulder, and grabbed Presley firmly by the arm, leading her up to some steel doors that he opened with his free hand. "Rick...Name's Rick Grimes." His voice was still as cold and hard as before, but maybe he was always this way. Before she knew it, he was shoving her down some steps and she was confronted with a small crowd of people.

"What the hell is this!?" A grisly looking man with a leather vest spoke with slightly slurred words. She lowered her eyebrows a little. Rick ushered everyone into a cellblock and closed the gate, locking her in. She refused to beg. Yes, she was desperate for shelter, but she'd rather die with her pride. The crowd she had seen before were convening. She could hear them speaking, some of them a little louder than others. She sat down on one of the prison benches, circling with her finger. It felt good to rest, her feet hurt from walking so much. She laid her head down and dozed off for a few minutes before hearing the clanking of a metal door opening back up.

"You can stay...But there are stipulations." It was Rick, again. Followed by the rest of the crowd. Presley nodded in appreciation as woman with short hair handed her a bowl of soup. She began to eat as the people around her spoke. "We were attacked. By a man who calls himself the Governor...Do you know him? Where did you come from?"

She took a bite and swallowed, before turning to look at him. "Atlanta. I come from Atlanta. As soon as the broadcast started, I high tailed it out. I was a detective, I knew what I was dealing with, and I wasn't waitin' around to see the world end and take me with it." She took a swallow of a cup of water that had been handed to her and continued. "I was going to the coast. I figured it'd be safe by the ocean." Presley cracked a half smile, looking at the young boy. "...Walkers can't swim. I got there and was welcomed by a herd, a big group of 'em..Luckily, some other folks had the same idea I had and we joined up...they took me to their camp and we stayed for a few months. Met some really nice people. Almost fell in love, believe it or not. Before the herd caught up with us and then we lived on the run...Sleeping in the cars on the side of the road, until someone would spot a group of walkers and we'd run some more. A few nights ago, the lookout, David, died...or fell asleep...or ran off or something. We all got caught sleeping...We were surrounded by at least a hundred of 'em...Clawing at the windows of the cars...I was the only one that ran. I was the only one that made it. So...to answer the question, I don't know a Governor..."

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**Author Notes**

I haven't written in years! A new chapter will be posted daily if you guys dig the story! I promise to offer humor, a little bit of romance, and some mystery! Enjoy. :)


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